


The Boy with the Flower

by yotsubanoclover



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Love, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Ray route, Reunions, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 03:59:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15743814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yotsubanoclover/pseuds/yotsubanoclover
Summary: [Another Story Prologue] As you find yourself heading towards where "Unknown" is, you cannot help expecting him to be the person you've been looking for your whole life.





	The Boy with the Flower

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Saeran x MC Week day 1 - Childhood Friendships  
> @itsmeohmyo on Tumblr made a fan art for this one-shot, do check out her beautiful art! https://itsmeohmyo.tumblr.com/post/177303361072/the-boy-with-the-flower

_I must be going crazy_ , you think to yourself as you stay seated, blindfolded, in a stranger’s car, going God-knows-where.

It already felt fishy when a notification from an app you didn’t know you have popped up. Even more so when a stranger started chatting, even calling you, asking for a favor - to test a game, apparently. Your common sense told you to reject the offer, like any normal person would.

But instead, you said yes.

“When you’re on your way in the car, please understand that you have to be blindfolded, as where I am is a confidential information,” the stranger - Unknown - said in his phone call.

“Sure,” you tell him.

Perhaps somewhere inside you, you expected everything to be a lie. That the app got downloaded by mistake. That “Unknown” was only a weirdo behind a screen. That a car wouldn’t really come for you and bring you away to a “confidential” location. That the whole deal was a well-constructed prank, and that a camera crew would make an appearance sometime soon.

But you’re way more naive than you realized. Naive that you followed through on that reasoning. Naive that you expected to see something you’ve been looking for when the blindfold is taken off.

_Naive that you still think you can reunite with him._

* * *

 

_“Why are you crying?”_

_You look up to the voice, your tears blurring the figure standing above you as you hug your knees and cry, sitting on the ground. As you wipe your tears messily with both hands, the flower he hands to you is the first thing that catches your eye. Then his striking red hair and, as your gaze travels from his feet to his eyes, two golden irises._

_Embarrassed, you stand up. “I-it’s nothing.”_

_He still doesn’t retract his hand holding the flower. It’s scarlet red, just like his hair, and has cute and small round petals. You have never seen this flower before. “For you.”_

_Your hands are shaking when you take it from him, and the boy hides his hands behind his back as soon as you receive it. “Thank you.” You force a smile. “What flower is this?”_

_His lips form a thin smile. “It’s a_ Geranium _\- the flower language is ‘I’m happy because of you.’”_

_Looking at the flower, you ask him, “But I didn’t make you happy.”_

_“You did.” He avoids your eyes, blushing. “You smiled… when you took the flower.” Before you can say anything, the boy whose name you haven’t learned, sprints away into the church building._

* * *

Your chest aches as you look back to the memory from your childhood. For a shy and awkward child no one wanted to be around you were, going to the cathedral had always been a painful experience; your voice was way too soft and shaky. You always seemed to say and do the wrong thing. The big boys always came for your precious candy. The other kids avoided you. A day wouldn’t pass without you crying alone, blaming yourself for not having any friends.

Until the boy… and his flower.

Since that day, you would always look forward going to the church school, hoping you would see him somewhere around the small garden, where the flowers were blooming. Yet, you never saw him again. There was no one to ask, as you didn’t even know his name. The days went by as if he never existed. Only the flower he gave you remained as a proof that he was real. And the warmth his embarrassed smile left in your heart.

_I want to see him again._

The car door opens. “You really came!” Unknown’s voice follows.

“Unknown…?”

“You recognize my voice right away.” You could hear him smile. “Here, let me help you.” His hand touched yours, helping you getting off. The warmth enveloping your hand feels eerily familiar. Your heart starts to pound. “Thank you for coming.”

“Can I take off the blindfold?” You need to see him.

“Sorry, not yet.” His grip stays firm on your hand. “Let me show you to your room first. Don’t worry, I will never let you fall or miss a step.”

As you walk on his lead, the pace of your heartbeat only increases. Without your sense of sight, your other senses grow stronger; or rather, the warmth of his hand feels the strongest. Your whole senses focus on it, and the familiar feeling that resides in your heart from it. As seconds, even minutes, pass in darkness and uncertainty, you grow impatient, your grip on his hand strengthening.

“Just a little more.” Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his gentle remark. Why? It didn’t do anything to you on the phone, or when he first greeted you. What changed?

“We’re here!” He sounds more excited, and you hear the door closing behind you. “Here, let me take the blindfold off.”

His touch makes you twitch, the warmth of his fingers electrifying your skin. Your body grows tense from excitement and nervousness; the pounding of your heart louder than ever. You will soon get to see him. You will soon know whether he really is the boy from your childhood.

“Hello!” His smile catches your eyes first. “Finally, you can meet me properly!” Then it’s the glint of his emerald eyes, where his smile reaches. “My name is Ray. What’s your name?” Your gaze shifts to his silver locks of hair; the red, pinkish ends only noticeable after.

_It’s not him… is it?_

Gripping on your dress, just above your chest, you heave a sigh. Everything about him tells you he’s not who you’re looking for.

Yet the warmth lingering in your hand and face seem to say otherwise.

“My name is MC,” you reply, smiling. “Nice to meet you, Ray!”

_And you’re holding on to that small glimmer of hope._

**Author's Note:**

> I know I mentioned this up there but thank you @itsmeohmyo on Tumblr for the beautiful fan art :) https://itsmeohmyo.tumblr.com/post/177303361072/the-boy-with-the-flower


End file.
